


Intersection

by wingeddserpent



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the way, Irvine realizes what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the porn battle prompt: Irvine/Zell/Selphie, rebuilding

They're surrounded. Irvine crouches low atop the building, watching, waiting. Selphie and Zell are back to back. All and all, he's not too worried—it's five to one odds, but Zell and Selphie are by far the best at coming out of hairy situations unscathed. And they have him here as backup, just in case.

Selphie's grin is manic, bloodthirsty even; Zell's got a certain darkness in his expression; Irvine knows—this is where the two of them belong, here on the battlefield. (It's kind of hot he decides, and then quashes the thought.)

It's practically the same movement—Zell launches forward and lashes out with his fists while Selphie flicks out the end of her nunchaku and there's the sickening crunch of bone. The guy who had lurched at Zell goes down. Zell flips over Selphie, takes out a guy coming at her, and she takes out a chick who's trying to fill the space he just vacated.

There's a certain grace to all of it, Irvine decides, the way they move in perfect synchronicity, the way they look pressed into the same space, the way their sweat-slicked skin slides across each other.

Irvine's mouth dries.

They press into each other, back to back, and people are still coming at them, and Zell just looks menacing, his eyes dark, his fists and face bloodstained, and Selphie looks nearly crazed, her eyes bright bright, and her smile wide. Neither of them say a word, but they move in the same second, and Irvine's breath hitches, finger twitching on the trigger.

Both of them move with the pulse of the battle—are the pulse of the battle. No one stands a chance, no one controls anything when they're fighting.

When the last man goes down, Selphie looks positively disappointed, smile falling, and Zell smiles again, this triumphant grin, and he picks Selphie up and twirls her around, and she holds onto his broad shoulders, skin pressed again skin, and Selphie plants a kiss on Zell's cheek, laughing.

"Nice work," Irvine calls, throwing down a few healing spells mostly for his own peace of mind. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Selphie says with that wicked grin he loves.

Zell laughs. "Yeah, let's head out."

* * *

Irvine tries to forget about it. Forget the ripple of muscle and the connection. Tries to forget about the images that play through his mind—images that really have no place anywhere, to be frank—Selphie on her knees in front of Zell, his strong hands fisted in her hair. Or Selphie pressing Zell into a wall with that ferocity that always makes Irvine weak to his knees and helpless. (Hyne, Irvine's got nearly a foot of height on her, she really shouldn't be able to pin him, but Selphie's a short woman, not a small one.)

Sometimes, late at night, while Selphie's curled into this warm little ball at his side and he's running his hand over the curve of her back, there are images. Zell buried hilt deep in Selphie with Irvine fucking him from behind. Or Selphie sucking Irvine off while Zell's fucking her or—

He groans and Selphie makes a deep-throated noise, which really doesn't help matters.

Really, Rinoa always calls him a pervert. He's kinda starting to believe it's the truth. His hand snakes down, and he shifts, so that Selphie is pressed into his back, and he takes himself firmly in hand. He really should get out of bed, but that’ll wake Selphie. He’ll just have to keep quiet.

—Or he imagines himself fucking Selphie, while Zell's working him open with three fingers. Maybe four.

Irvine shifts his grip, so that his callus brushes him just so, and there are spots dancing behind his eyes. Hyne, but this is more than a little sick. Selphie's right there, could wake up any moment. And he's imagining going at it with his girlfriend and her best friend, and—

—Hyne, but she'd look good with Zell's dick stretching her mouth out, nearly choking her. And that look on his face would be priceless, his legs would be shaking, his hands nearly painful in Selphie's hair as she did that thing with her tongue that's part wicked humor and all Selphie, and Zell's hips would buck and then Irvine would slide behind him, fingers slick with lube, and Zell would open slowly under his touch, muscles tensing then relaxing, and Irvine'd work him up to four fingers, then slide his cock home, and Selphie'd meet his gaze and wink—

Spots dance across his vision and he bites down on his other hand to keep from crying out, and his hips buck, and he takes a firmer grip on himself, and—okay, yeah, this is probably a bad idea, with Selphie _right there_ but—he moves faster, faster, until he comes, biting down hard on his hand, but this muffled strangled sound escapes, and then Selphie's awake, dagger in hand and—oh, yeah, bad idea.

She looks about wildly, muscles tense, ready to kill for him, and then she sees him, breathing heavy and sitting up. Her expression relaxes, and she slides her dagger back into the hidden sheathe.  

"Irvine," she says, a little reprimanding, "Couldn't you have gone somewhere else?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Thought I could be quiet enough. I was trying not to wake you," he says with an easy grin.

He gets out of bed to go grab a towel, and her hand snakes out, and she presses her fingers into his hip. "You've been off all week. Is something the matter?"

Trust Selphie to find concern in masturbation.

“Not really,” he says, thoughtful, “I need some more time to think, then we’ll talk. How’s that sound?”

Selphie grins, eyes bright, and then she pulls him down by his ponytail and stands on tiptoe to kiss him. Her tongue slides into his mouth and he presses down, deeper into the kiss, and he cups her face in his hands. When she pulls back to gasp in a breath, he says, “I should probably go shower so you can sleep. It’s late.”

“Hey, if I’m gonna have an insomniac boyfriend, I’m gonna take the perks where I can,” she says, grinning.

Well, can’t deny the lady, can he?

* * *

Selphie shuts her eyes tight, takes a breath, and mentally counts down from ten. Her eyes snap open and she flashes a grin. “Right,” she says, “Let’s go.”

The girl smiles tremulously, and Selphie leads her through the wreckage and people turn and smile at her, but there’s just this tired look in all their eyes, and she aches, because this is her home. Her home in a way Balamb will never be. Rebuilding has been a slow process until now, but she has the plans from Balamb, so Trabia should have flying capabilities soon enough, once her and the other engineers can set in on it.

First, though, she’s gotta take this kiddo home.

She’d found her in the graveyard (oh, how she’s starting to hate that word, hate that place), standing in front of a tombstone, tears streaming down her face, and the first thing she’d said was— “The bombs can’t get me here. They’ll protect me.”

It had nearly set Selphie to sobbing, but she’s a SeeD. Strength is what she has to offer, so she’ll offer it.

Selphie drops the girl off at one of the shelters and an older SeeD smiles with relief, and it’s a new face, and that probably means that the woman who used to watch the young cadets died in the attack, and loss claws at her, nearly makes her gasp. Selphie grins. “She’s had a rough morning,” she says, “But I think her afternoon’ll be better.”

And then she beats a retreat that doesn’t look like a retreat.

She loops back to one of the tool rooms and finds her bag and slings it over her shoulder. One of the other engineers, Sean or something, nods at her, dark circles under his eyes and wrench in hand. “Hey,” she says, moves over to him. “You okay, buddy?”

Her hand gently lands on his shoulder and he flinches, tense. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t be. Not get much sleep?”

“No,” he says, face crumpling. “I haven’t slept well since...”

Selphie cuts him off with a soft smile. Oh, but she understands. Irvine hasn’t slept well since the Sorceress thing, and she doesn’t blame him. More often than not, she still dreams about it—about Rinoa being locked in a box or what Time Compression felt like, or those nights when Ultimecia pays her a visit, eyes burning like—

With a sigh, she relieves him of his wrench. “You’re not going to be much use to me exhausted. It’s pretty tricky stuff. So here’s what I want you to do—go out. Try to get some rest. Don’t do anything machinery or battle related. Relax. Maybe play with some kids, or make snow angels, or something. Come back when you’re a bit more rested, okay?”

A flush rises high in his cheeks and he pulls away and leaves before she can soften her words.

Briefly, she shuts her eyes, and then puts his wrench on one of the numerous shelves. She has work to do. No time to dwell. Selphie navigates her way easily through the wreckage. The main console’s pretty mangled and it looks like no one’s even touched it yet and she sets to work with her blueprints and her wrench, and maybe she sticks wires in her mouth, and maybe she scorches and bruises her fingertips, and maybe she’s not a hundred percent what she’s doing, but she’s never been good at theoretical understanding. She buries herself to her elbows, fucks up royally, and then figures it out through a process of trial and failure. Like how she learned to make a website, and use her nunchaku, and fly the Ragnorak, and fix the Ragnorak.

It’s not learning until she’s battered and defeated, but still trying.

Other engineers filter in and out, helping where they can, and she’s grateful, because some of them actually know what they’re doing, can give her some sort of direction, and she stays there, in the guts of her home, until she feels someone squeeze her shoulder tight.

“Selphie,” Zell says, “How long you been working?”

“I don’t know,” she says, wiping sweat from her forehead with her forearm.

His frown is quick, and she nearly doesn’t catch it. He tugs her up by her wrist, and then grins down at her, the happy-go-lucky Zell back, and he says, “C’mon. Let’s go eat.”

* * *

“Hey, Rinoa,” Irvine says, flopping back on his bed, pressing the phone to his ear. “How are you?”

“Good. How’s Trabia?” she asks.

He blows out a sigh. “Rebuilding.”

There’s a pause, where both of them recall what Trabia looked like right after the missiles hit, what Trabia had looked like with open-eyed corpses strewn about, and children with drying tears on their faces and—

“Irvine,” she says, voice quiet. “How’s Selphie?”

He stops, going still on the bed, and then waits a few moments, staring up at the ceiling. “She’s coping. Working hard. But, like, she’s trying too hard, you know? Like, faking it. I’m worried.”

“Yeah,” Rinoa responds, and he can practically hear her picking at the skin around her fingernails, can imagine Squall’s disapproving frown, and the way he’d reach out and lace fingers with her to make her stop before she’s bleeding.

“I think she’s gonna be okay, though,” he says as an afterthought. “People here are really trying to pick back up, and it’s—good to see.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and he bends his legs and curls his free hand into a fist, his gaze never leaving the ceiling. His hat’s in the corner of the room, his gun’s in arm’s reach, and people are probably wondering what he’s doing in here instead of out helping with stuff like Selphie and Zell are but he needs—

“So, what’s going on? You never just call to talk,” Rinoa says, beating him the punch.

He blows out another sigh, trying to find the right words, and he says, "So, like, you know how Zell and Selphie are best friends?" he doesn't wait for her response, because it's not really a question that needs to be asked, everyone knows how close they are. "And then when they fight together, there's that—it's like they're one person, all connected and it's—"

Rinoa cuts him off. "It's beautiful," she breathes.

"Yeah," he looks up at the ceiling, and sees their sweat-slicked bodies in his mind's eye, swallows.

"So..." Rinoa asks slowly, "What are you getting at?"

Irvine stands up, abrupt, a motion that surprises him, and then he paces, because how to articulate without sounding like a total creep? Or a pervert? Or—"Rinoa—when we went on that mission in Deling a few months ago, they were fighting and I was backup, and I just watched them fight, and it was like—I couldn't breathe. Ever since then, I—I've had these—daydreams, and, like, I—about them. I mean, I know—it's sick, but I just can't focus—even when—"

"Okay, Hyne, calm down, Irvine," Rinoa says, cool authority in her tone.

He stops his agitated pacing and sits down on the bed, foot tapping. "I just—" he exhales slowly. "I love Selphie, you know I love Selphie. But it's not like I just want to fuck Zell. I want us to fuck Zell. Like, Selphie and I. But it's not like that. I don't mean it like that! Zell's not—"

With a groan, he flops back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling again. "Irvine... I don't really... Maybe you should talk to Selphie about it? See what she thinks?"

"And say what? Love you, babe, but how'd you feel about sharing our bed with Zell?" Irvine snaps, and then stops. "Sorry. I'm just—I haven't been sleeping. My normal troubles and now this. Like, every time I close my eyes, it's either Ultimecia, or Edea, or the two of them going at it."

"It's okay. I think, if it's bothering you this much, I think you should talk to Selphie. And you should just explain the nature of the problem, and then—wait and see."

For a long time, neither of them say anything, and then he murmurs, "Thanks, Rinoa. You're a lifesaver."

"Yeah. Take care, Irvine. Tell me how it goes."

* * *

Selphie sits down across from him with this tired grin. "So how's it coming?" Zell asks before stuffing sandwich into his mouth.

"Pretty okay. I had to send home one of the engineers today. Poor guy, thought he might cry," she says, poking at her steak thoughtfully. "I mean, there's a lot of work I need to do, but it's coming along. It's better than it was, and people are happier, which is good. I just—it's been over a year, but I still can't believe..."

She stabs her meat violently, until it's pretty much bleeding, and he reaches across and grabs her hand.

"Selph," he says, with a smile. "It's gonna be okay."

With a sigh, she cuts off a chunk of steak and then shoves it into her mouth. He has to repress a grin—typical Selphie and her comfort eating. There's a comfortable silence as they eat and Selphie's starting to look a little less distraught, which he figures is a good sign. "Hey, how about tomorrow we spar?"

"Mm—maybe once I get more work done? There's a lot to do, and I know they need you to help with the buildings."

Zell nods—yeah, he's a little sore from all the lifting—and he says, seriously, "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she exhales, "I'm gonna be fine. It's just—this was my home. I know all these people and I remember how it used to be. But, nobody from Trabia is weak. So we'll make it."

That's what he likes to hear. He leans across the table to ruffle her hair and she laughs, and that's pretty much all he needs.

* * *

That night, Selphie gets to the room, step dragging and eyes drooping. Irvine's waiting for her, lounging on the bed, but he stands when she walks in and kisses her. There's really not much she can do about the smile that blooms on her face. "How'd your day go?"

"Okay. We're making progress on the mechanical parts," she tells him with a yawn, curling in his arms.

She can feel his smile when he presses his mouth to the top of her head. Irvine swings her around and deposits her on the bed, and then throws her pajamas at her. His eyes twinkle and Selphie sighs, grin crooked. "You are a terror," she tells him, with all the dignity she can muster.

But she strips and then pulls on her night clothes, and Irvine just watches, eyes dark.

A moment later, he settles into bed beside her, and she smiles, stretching out, and then he says, "Sefie?" there's a pause. "I think we need to talk."

The heady contentment leaves her in a rush. His face is serious, something twisting his mouth into an expression that kind of scares her, and she props herself up on her elbows. "What's going on?"

"I—How do you feel about Zell?" he asks, and that's really not what she's expecting.

Selphie blinks a few times. "Zell?" Irvine nods. "He's my best friend. I'd die for him, kill for him... Why?"

There's a pause, and then Irvine laces his fingers with hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles, eyes serious. "I've been thinking. Like, for a while now. Maybe he'd... be a good addition to us?"

She's about to ask 'to what' and then it washes over her, and she blinks, settling back into the bed, squeezing Irvine's hand so that he knows she's just considering, just thinking. It's not really something she'd ever thought about before, truth be told.

Although, truth be told, she hadn't thought very much about dating Irvine until Rinoa had brought his feelings to her attention. Three months after the Sorceress incident.

But Zell? And she's pretty sure this relationship thing is supposed to be between two people, except—well, love is love, she figures. If you all love each other, why not? Because there's never enough love in the world, and her theory's always been the more love the better. But—

"What brought this on?" she asks quietly, tilting her head to the side.

Irvine blows out a breath, like he was expecting the question and doesn’t want to answer it. It's a fight to keep her eyes from narrowing, because Irvine needs a lot of things from her right now, but suspicion's not one of them. "Remember that mission in Deling?" he doesn't wait for her answer. "It was—something. Like, the way you two moved? It was—I haven't been able to stop—"

She sits up and then brushes the fingers of her free hand over his cheek. "So it's a physical thing?"

"No! Sefie, it's not like that—I just—"

With a shake of her head, she moves her hand down, presses a finger to his lips. He falls silent. "I think," she says quietly, "You should think about it a little more. Then we'll talk."

Irvine lowers his head. "Yeah."

"It's okay," she murmurs, and the crawls into his lap, presses her mouth to his.

He kisses her greedily, mouth hot and demanding. For a long time, they just stay like that—her curled in his lap, mouths attached, and her eyes start to droop again, and she feels Irvine's laugh. "Think maybe you should get some sleep, sweetheart."

"Yeah," she murmurs.

Irvine drops a kiss on her temple, and rearranges her so that her head's on his lap, and she yawns, then drifts off.

* * *

Zell stretches, bends, touches his toes, launches up into a flying kick, grins, twists around, punches at a nonexistent enemy, drops and rolls, then leaps onto the bed. It creaks, protesting, and he punches it hard.

Definitely a victory.

He tugs the blankets up, because damn, Trabia's colder than he remembers, and he remembers it being pretty damn cold. The ceiling's white and he finds himself missing his room at home, with the glowing stars him and Selphie and Rinoa had put up, and he can't repress the grin.

Hopefully, the rebuilding doesn't take too long. It makes Selphie sad—and Selphie shouldn't ever have to be sad, because she has a great smile—and it means they can't go home, and he's starting to miss everyone.

Rinoa and her willingness to help him and Selphie with all their crazy plots; Quistis and her knack for stopping those crazy plots; Squall and his disapproving scowl that's mostly fake because he's trying not to smile. Zell settles back into the bed that's not nearly as comfortable as his bed at home, but it's good enough, considering that Trabia's still a wreck.

He'll have to check in with Irvine at some point. Man's not much for mechanics or building, so he's on guard duty, which, as a sniper, he's pretty well-suited for, but that means he's not around a whole lot.

Zell frowns, wonders how Selphie and Irvine's relationship is holding up, and then yawns.

Selphie'd probably say something if something was going wrong, and Irvine'd be here right now if he thought Selphie was having problems, so Zell figures he shouldn't worry and sleep captures him and he's out.

* * *

Sometimes, she forgets just how much she hates waking up when it's this cold. She can't fight the shiver as she hunches her shoulders against the snow flurries and enters the main console room. Sean looks up guiltily from where he's examining the blueprints, and says, "I'm sorry," and he tries to retreat.

Selphie reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder. "Hey, relax," she examines him, sees the dark circles under his eyes, "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. But—please, I just—I want to help," he murmurs.

She thinks about it, then hands him her extra wrench—the one she'd gotten for Irvine before she realized his skill with mechanics was limited to maintenance on his gun—and says, "Glad to have you."

With a ragged smile, he sets to helping her, and she finds herself watching him work, head tilted to the side. He's good, good in a way born of practice rather than guessing, good in a way she isn't yet. Even though he hasn't slept. And she sets up next to him, and gets to work herself, focusing.

It's a good sort of silence, a silence of people who are trying to do the same thing, but are doing it very differently, and she smiles to herself. Machines are simple in a way that people aren't. Machines don't have relationships, machines don't fall in love, machines don't fight or kill each other. Machines do what they're meant to do until they break, but they can be fixed again in ways that people can't be.

But machines don't love or feel or think, and it's probably good they can't, but it's still kind of sad, because there's a lot to be said for living and loving and laughing and crying, she figures.

Her hand slips and a bolt goes flying and she grimaces at the resounding crack. "Great," she murmurs, and she swears she hears Sean repressing a laugh. "Hey, peanut gallery. Get back to work," she says, feigning indignation and this time, he really does laugh, and she figures it's a job well-done.

They get back to work, and she can't get Irvine's expression out of her head, that sort of quiet plea for understanding, and she really doesn't know what to do. For sure, she's not the expert at this sort of thing. Normally, she follows his lead in this whole relationship thing, because he's the one who knows what he's doing and she's the one who's just kind of along for the ride, as terrible as that sounds. But she values it, values him, and how she feels, and how he feels, and she really just wants everything to be okay, but she feels kinda thrown for a loop. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Me?" he blinks, then realizes there's no one else around. "Uh—sure?"

"So, my boyfriend. He's kinda... having feelings for another person. But, it's not that he wants to have an affair. More like he wants to have threesome," she says, then waits.

Sean frowns; there's the sound of his wrench turning. "Well, how do you feel about the third person?"

"They're my best friend. I'd do anything—I've just never done anything like this before. I'm not sure what to do," she mutters, twisting a bolt in a little too tight.

Selphie swears under her breath. "Well," Sean replies slowly, "I'm not really an expert either, but, ah, maybe just do what you think is right? For everyone involved? And don't get talked into anything you don't want to do?"

She laughs at herself. "Guess it is that simple. Thanks."

"No problem."

They fall back into their silence, working, and Selphie hums a little to herself. Hyne, but does she love this, this opportunity to get dirty and experiment, to fix things. Sometimes, she thinks she'd be happy as a mechanic. And then she remembers that would mean no rocket launchers. And so she abandons the idea.

* * *

Irvine rubs out the spot on his gun with his sleeve. Everything's quiet out here, no stray monsters, no one caught in the snow, no blizzards or avalanches, and he finds himself wishing there was something—anything—so that his mind would stop working overtime.

What is he going to do?

When he shuts his eyes, he can see Selphie's vaguely puzzled look for the briefest second, and then he sees Zell and Selphie beaming at him, and his heart starts beating all fast. But he's in love with Selphie, has never questioned that, but he's pretty damn sure he's not just lusting after Zell, because lust is easy, is simple, and there's nothing simple about any of this.

He runs a hand over his gun and tilts his hat a little, so it hides his face a little more.

So does that mean he's in love with Zell, too?

—"Guys, let's play house," Sefie said, grinning at them.

Zell looked up from his blocks. "Yeah! I wanna be the dad."

"Nu-uh," Irvy said. "I getta be dad and Sefie's mom. You're the dog."

He frowned, thinking about it, and then he knocked his tower over. "I don't wanna be the dog again. I wanna be the dad. You be the dog, Irvy."

Both of them stood, glaring at each other, and then Sefie, already bored of the fight and ready to play, grinned. "Hey," she said, "Why don't you both be the dad?"

They looked at her, glares melting to confusion.

"I mean, I can be the wife, and you can be my husbands, and we can go on adventures and fight off the monsters on the beach!" she laughed delightedly and scurried off, and Zell and Irvy looked at each other, and then grinned, because if Sefie said it was okay, it was okay, and they ran after.

By time they got out there, the giant crabs were overtaking the beach, roaring and breathing fire on everything, and Sefie had her giant gun, and she handed Irvy the sword that was bigger than him, and Zell took the magic wand, because it was his turn, and they lurched forward, howling. The crabs were ferocious foes, and Sefie riddled the first three full of bullets and then had to reload while Irvy went running at them, calling them meanies and other things, lashing out with the right end of the sword this time.

Zell blasted a few crabs with sparkly beams of light and they instantly became dust; Sefie grinned at him delightedly, "Oh, you're so brave," she swooned, "My turn!"

And she went back to shooting the crabs and she saved Irvy from a big crab about to eat him. "I was gonna be fine. I'm wearing the dragon armor," he said, pouting.

"Nu-uh. It's my turn for the armor," Sefie said with a frown.

There was a pause, and they looked at each from across the bloody battlefield, while Zell kept attacking the crabs, and then Irvy said, "I have the sword. My armor," he howled a battle-cry and ran back into the fray. "Besides, I wanna be brave, too!”

Sefie pouted for as long as it took her to realize that that meant she had the explody ammo and she laughed and started shooting the crabs again, huge explosions booming.

Most of the crabs were dead by time Zell screamed, "It's the Queen Crab!"

And all three of them turned towards the giant, angry crab, alight with blue fire that would make you die if you got within thirteen billion inches of it, unless you were wearing the dragon armor. "Let's get it!" Sefie yowled, "We're gonna need lotsa butter for her!"

Irvy grinned and ran at it, ignoring the blue fire, and dodging out of the way of its giant claws that were big enough to crush a big huge mansion, he lashed out with his sword, and then the claw came down on it. Everything stopped. Zell and Sefie looked at each other, frowning; Irvy said, "Come on, can't it be okay?"

With a sigh, Zell said, "No. That'd break the rules," he sighed. "Nice going, Irvy."

Pouting, Irvy threw the now useless stick into the surf.

Time picked up again, and Sefie yelled, "Get outta there, Irvy!"

With an ear-splitting scream, Irvy ran back towards his wife and husband, while Zell went to attacking with the sparkly darkness wand magic and Sefie went to shooting the Queen Crab.

"Go find another sword," Zell said, "I'll distract her! Hey! Ugly! Over here!"

He ran forward, leaving footprints in the sand, and the crab lurched at him, and Sefie screamed, horrified as Zell got hit by a blue-fire claw. "Irvy, Irvy, hurry! He's dying! You have the armor, you gotta kiss him before he melts!"

"But only true love's kiss works! You gotta kiss him!"

"I can't! I'll get melted!" she said, "Besides, your kiss'll work too. We're all married, remember?"

Irvy thought about it for a second, and then ran towards where Zell was convulsing on the beach; Sefie yelled a challenge to the crab and was shooting her. With a frown, Irvy knelt beside Zell and pressed his mouth to Zell's and blinked at the sudden warmth, and both of them blushed, eyes wide, watching each other, and then Zell sprang up. "Ha! Stupid crab! You can't beat us, we have true love on our side!"

And he blasted the crab dead with the magical love beam from his wand.

Sefie ran over and plastered kisses on Zell's face, crying about how scared she had been, and then she kissed Irvy's face too, telling him how brave he was, and Irvy's heart swelled. He really, really hoped they'd play this game again.—

Irvine frowns, looking up at the sky. It'd been awhile since he thought about that particular memory but—maybe this isn't such a random idea after all. He rubs a hand across his face, thinks about Zell's grin, and the carefree attitude he has, and his spit-fire anger, and his strength and—

and his mouth's dry.

Hyne, it all clicks.


	2. Chapter 2

Irvine looks a little distracted, but Selphie doesn't seem all that concerned; she grins at Zell, totally unaware of the streak of grease just below her right eye. He decides not to tell her—it's kinda cute and totally Selphie. Blithely, she orders a chicken salad thing for Irvine and a hamburger for herself, and Zell gets ribs this time, because, damn, he's not as carnivorous as Selphie is, but sometimes, he likes to pretend.

"Is Irvine okay?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm not that zoned out," Irvine says, an easy grin spreading across his face, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess."

Selphie laughs to herself, kicks Zell’s shin under the table, and holds up her butter knife, and he grins like a little kid and—so they've never really grown up, and maybe it's not polite but—he grabs his and they proceed to have an epic duel with their knives and the clinking's starting to alert other patrons of the dining hall, and neither of them care, so intent on victory, and Irvine's smile softens just a little.

His heart beats just a little faster—from the fight with Selphie, it's gotta be—and they get their food before anyone else does.

There's something to be said of being obnoxious; Selphie looks positively wicked and Zell can't help but laugh.

They set to eating, and it's quiet, but Irvine's still watching the two of them with an expression Zell can't exactly place, and he shifts a little in his seat, a flush rising in his ears, and Irvine probably notices because he notices just about everything. Something to do with being an assassin or whatever. But a look flashes in Irvine's eyes, and it makes Zell turn back to his food, and he swears he hears Irvine sigh.

What is going on?

"The machinery’s really coming along," Selphie says, breaking the silence that's suddenly taut.

"I could tell," Irvine says, dry humor in his tone, "Your hands are burned still."

She flashes a grin that's practically blinding, and Zell laughs too. "Don't you know, Irvine? That's how machines say 'I love you'..."

Silence descends over the table again, sharp, swift, and Irvine and Selphie are sharing this really intense look, and Zell shifts, out of place, and wonders, again, if they're having relationship problems, or something. He eats the ribs faster, barbeque sauce dripping all down his wrists, and he shoves gil on the table. "I should probably go, guys. I—they'll be needing my help," he says, and pretty much books it.

Hyne, if they had wanted to eat lunch alone, they should have just told him earlier. He breathes out a sigh, and then grimaces. Dammit, he forgot napkins. Maybe he should take a shower first...

* * *

Selphie blows out a sigh, and turns her attention from Zell's retreating form to Irvine. "Well? I'm guessing you figured something out."

Her voice is low, so that no one else can hear them, and she can see the relief in Irvine's eyes. He exhales and then takes a bite of food, chewing while he finds his words, and she really just wants to reach out and pull him close and hug him and tell him it's gonna be okay, but she also knows that he needs to think, needs to talk, so she waits.

"I—Sefie," he murmurs, "I'm in love with him too."

He winces, like he's expecting anger or sadness or rejection. Selphie leans back in her seat, and looks up at the ceiling. "That's what I wanted to hear," she says, smiling, looking back at him.

Eyes widening, he looks at her for an explanation, and she reaches out and places her hand over his. "Irvine, it's not a bad thing to be in love. I would have been upset if I thought you just wanted to get in Zell's pants," her grin widens, "I would've wanted to kick your ass for treating his like that. But this is—different."

"...So...?" he asks, quietly.

She laces her fingers with his. "So... Where do we go from here, Irvy? I mean, c'mon. I don't know anything about any of this except that love is always a good thing. You're the one with the finesse, cowboy."

His grin's fleeting, but genuine, and there's this aching relief in his eyes. "Well..." he draws it out, thinking, "It depends. How do you feel about Zell? I mean, we know how I feel, but...?"

"Now that's a loaded question. Remember? I didn't even realize how I felt about you until at least twelve different people told me 'but Selphie, don't you notice the way he looks at you? He totally likes you'. And, to be honest, it wasn't until after we started dating I got used to the whole romantic love thing. I love Zell. Not like how I love you, but I don't think that's really saying anything. I'd be willing to try, provided it's something Zell wants."

Irvine's smile is all joy (and she can't remember the last time she saw him this happy, and something in her chest burns) and he leans across the table and kisses her, soft and slow, his tongue exploring her mouth in a way that makes her arch, and she clutches at his hair and warmth pools in her stomach, moves down, and it's really amazing what Irvine can say with just a kiss.

"I'll talk to Zell, okay? You just focus on work," he says.

She nods, catching her breath.

That's the day she discovers that eating a hamburger with your left hand because you’re holding hands with your right is pretty challenging, but totally worth it.

* * *

Zell glances up from where he's helping the kids draw a hopscotch board. "Hey, Irvine. How'd lunch go?" he asks.

"Good," Irvine replies with a smile, "We talked through a few things... Hey, Zell, could I talk to you?"

Zell's brows furrow with concern, and then he smoothes it away with a carefree smile. "Sure thing," he says, and the two of them dart behind a broken chunk of concrete.

With a sigh, Irvine learns against it and folds his arms, watching Zell, and man, why did he volunteer for this again? How do you even approach a topic like this? There's a long pause and Zell is hopping around in his typical way, partially from impatience, partially to keep warm, and Irvine kind of wants to reach out and grab him—make him stand still, press him against the wall, knee between Zell's thighs, leg rubbing against Zell's half-hard cock and—

Irvine swallows.

"Hey, is everything okay between you and Selphie?" Zell asks, closing the distance between them and putting a hand on Irvine's shoulder.

He can't really help the shudder that goes through him, and Zell looks so concerned at that, like maybe he thinks Irvine's about to start crying or something and Irvine decides it's probably time to open his big mouth. "Okay, here we go," he says, and then sighs, "Zell—there's nothing wrong between Selphie and I... Like, at all. We're great. But—"

Zell claps him hard on the shoulder, smile broad (oh, and Irvine's more than a little breathless) and says, "That's great!"

"Yeah. So, like, I um—" his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and he swallows again, to keep from babbling.

There's a pause, because sometimes, Zell does know how to be patient, but really he just looks confused, and Irvine takes a deep breath. If this is something he wants (and oh, it is, it really really is, he's not sure why it took him so long to realize, but maybe it didn't, he just ignored it) he's going to have to just—go for it. "So, we were talking. About you," Irvine says, "And—we think, like, we want to you with us. Together. Right?"

Zell blinks. "Irvine?"

"What I mean—I love you, Zell. We. I mean, both of us, like—"

There's a beat and Zell frowns deeply, this expression like surprise and confusion and Irvine's pretty sure Zell doesn't get it, because Zell just says, "You're dating Selphie," and then after a pause. "I thought you said everything was going—"

And Irvine doesn't know what to say, but he can't just—his heart's pounding in his chest, and he moves, and presses his lips against Zell's. Zell goes completely still, shock running currents through him, and Irvine doesn't know quite what he's doing, but he presses his hands to Zell's strong shoulders, and he licks his way into Zell's mouth and Zell doesn't protest, but instead slides his tongue tentatively into Irvine's mouth, and just as Irvine relaxes into the kiss, Zell seems to catch up and he pulls Irvine's face away by yanking on his ponytail.

"What...?" Zell pants, looking at him wide-eyed. "What just—Irvine, what about Selphie...?"

"I—" Irvine’s voice catches.

His fingers twitch, and Zell looks at him, this kind of horrified expression on his face. "Did you break up?"

"No!" Irvine takes a step closer and Zell cheats back; Irvine stills. "Look, you can talk to Selphie about it. We talked about it, Zell. We'd like—we'd like you to be a part of us."

And Zell's face contorts with either anger or confusion, and he twists, and darts away, and Irvine goes back to leaning against the wreckage, and he looks up at the sky.

Way to go, cowboy. Insert foot into mouth.

* * *

All in all, it's not surprising that he finds Selphie in the graveyard. He still feels shaky, his heart pounding in his ears, and he's pretty sure he can still feel Irvine's mouth on his, and he tries to forget how good it felt to—

And he stops right there. Because Irvine is Selphie's boyfriend and what happened is not okay, and—

"Selphie?" he says, his voice coming out hushed, and he's trying to tell himself it's out of respect for the dead. "I think we need to talk..."

She looks up at him, her face this mask of strength, and she stands in one fluid movement, with that grace of the battlefield and not the clumsiness of everyday life. Selphie's never been at home outside of the field, and he tries for a grin, but from the way her mouth tightens, he's pretty sure the effort falls flat. "I'm guessing Irvine talked to you...?" she says.

"Selphie... Yeah—I—he—I made out with your boyfriend," he blurts.

For a moment, she just looks at him, head tilted to the side; then, her face softens from the harsh expression that had hidden her grief, and she reaches out for him, her fingers tracing his jaw. "It's okay," she says, and then smiles, "Really. We were talking about you earlier."

He takes a step back—this isn't happening, not happening, what are they trying to do anyway, he kissed her _boyfriend_ why is she okay with that?—and Selphie half-smiles, almost sad, and she murmurs, "Zell, who's to say you can only love one person?"

"He's dating you," Zell says, mouth dry, but afire with the memory of Irvine's kiss.

"And?" Selphie lowers her hand. "I'm dating him, you're not dating anyone. Zell—you're my best friend. That's not something that will ever change but, you know? Love's kinda weird, and I've always gone about it all backwards and disjointed. Maybe I have missed something. What I do know? Is I wouldn't mind trying. Why is two the magic number? I've never liked the number two, anyway."

Her grin's open and easy, and it would be so easy to just—but this isn't a fairytale. It doesn't work like this and he doesn't—

They're happy together. Ridiculously happy. He won't be the one to ruin that, even if they want him to be. "I—I'll see you later, Selphie," he says, and maybe, if he can get away, they can all pretend like this never happened.

Zell glances back once during his retreat to see Selphie kneeling in front of a tombstone, fingers brushing the letters, and he struggles to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

* * *

Selphie settles down in the guts of the main console again, and she looks at the blueprints, and then she gets to work, and, okay, so yeah, it's probably not smart to get buried elbows deep into something that's filled with live wires, but she's got lightning junctioned to her, and she's kinda crackling with energy herself, electricity dancing beneath her skin, almost humming with power.

There's this sort of quiet that settles around her, like she's entered some sort of void while she's working, where the only thing that matters is the way the metal feels against her skin, the jolting electricity rushing through her, and it hurts a little, yeah, but not all that bad. Besides, that's what curatives are for, right?

The other engineers have already gone home—even Sean—and she's sort of glad for that, because her mind and her heart are racing, and she can't escape that look Zell had on his face.

Fear, misery—and she doesn't want him to feel like that, doesn't want his unhappiness—but then she remembers how happy Irvine had looked, and she wants him to look like that, again. And love is love, isn't it? Selphie flicks her wrist, and takes out a part of the machine that looks like it was rusting and is all cracked from the impact, and she winces as a bolt of electricity races through her and she shakes, vision blurring a little. Cure rises to her fingertips and she lets it soothe her, and she goes at it again.

So what are they going to do?

Because she wants them to be happy, because it's Irvine and Zell, because they're her family and they're important. While Irvine thinks about love and romance, she’s never been like that. She’s always been more focused on friendship and trust, and romance has always left her feeling a bit baffled, to be honest.

Selphie's always moving a bit too fast to let the softer emotions catch up with her. And that sort of love is a few shades lighter than that powerful devotion she normally goes by, is softer and more easily overlooked than joy or excitement. It had surprised everyone else how long it took her to realize Irvine's feelings.

It hadn't surprised her at all.

Because she knows herself, better than she knows anyone or anything else. She's all about speed and highs and lows and extremes, never liking to step back and relax, and the sort of quiet contemplation love takes has never really come naturally to her. Not really. But she's trying—has been trying—because she gets warm when Irvine smiles that smile of his, and the way his eyes light up when she walks into a room makes her want to leave and come back in a few seconds later, just to see it again.

So maybe she's not good at understanding romantic love, but she's good at feeling it. And—she takes a wire into her mouth, sweat beading down her face—she needs to think, so she'll think when she's up to her elbows in work. She flicks her wrist, sees Zell's face, remembers the feel of battle and remembers being back to back, his warmth and energy making her own excitement build, and the way his makes her want to do anything to see it again.

It's a bit different from how she feels about Irvine, but they're different people. She shouldn't feel the same way about them.

Maybe... she thinks with a wry smile, maybe this could all work. She takes the wire out of her mouth and reconnects it. Time to go back. Time to talk to Irvine.

* * *

Quistis always answers her phone on the first or second ring when she's not on a mission. Frankly, Zell's never been more glad about that.

"Zell?" she asks, voice clipped. "What's going on?"

Now isn't that the million gil question? He nearly starts laughing, except—this really isn't funny, isn't funny at all. Today started out pretty well, and then escalated into insanity. "Irvine and Selphie—" he falls silent, because how in the hell do you explain something like this?

"Are they all right?" concern is a high note in Quistis's voice.

"Yeah," he says after a moment. "They—Quistis. Irvine kissed me."

There's a long pause and then he realizes what that sounds like and grimaces, because that's really only half of the problem. He takes a breath, shaking his head and curling his hands into fists. "And Selphie was okay with it! They want—I don't even... They want me as a part of their relationship?"

Silence resounds from the other line and he swears he can hear Quistis sigh.

"So they want you to be a part of their relationship, romantically?" she asks, and this is why he called her, because Quistis is good about asking the right questions, and helping you figure out an answer.

And if it’s one thing he needs right now, it’s clarity.

"Yeah," he says, "And I mean—it's Irvine and Selphie, we're all really close, but I didn't ever think—and if it ruined their relationship, I could never..."

He tightens his fist and slams it into the bed. It creaks.

Quistis says, "So tell them no. If that's not something you want, say no. They'll understand."

It makes sense—it's that simple, but there's something in him that recoils, upset, and he can't really believe this, because it hadn't even entered his mind before today, and now...? Saying yes would be easy, he realizes, it would be so easy to spend more time with them. It would be so easy, because he—

"I don't want to be the extra wheel," he mutters, sitting down on his bed.

"But if you didn't have to worry about it, would you?" he figures his silence is answer enough; Quistis says, "I see. Zell—either talk to them about your concerns or tell them no. Either way, I think they'll understand."

He sighs and stands up. "Thanks, Quisty. I'll talk to you later?"

"Keep me posted," she responds, and then they disconnect.

* * *

Irvine grimaces when his phone rings. "Hello?" he asks picking up.

"Hello, Irvine," Quistis says, very quiet. "So, would you like to explain to me what's going on?"

"Did Zell call you?" he asks.

He stares across the snowy wasteland, brushing his fingers across the barrel of his gun. "He did," Quistis replies after a moment.

Briefly, he shuts his eyes, takes in a few deep breaths, feeling the sharp chill in his lungs, and then he shakes his head a few times. "I'm in love with them, Quisty," he says after a moment. "Ever since we were kids. I mean—like, I always knew about Selphie, that was a no-brainer. Zell... I mean, I wasn't expecting it. It just—it came to me, you know?"

There's another long silence. "You need to be more careful," Quistis says finally.

"I know—I just... I couldn't find my words, and then—I really messed up, Quisty. And I'm worried about Selphie, Trabia's making her—it's harder to make her smile, and I can't get Zell out of my head, and Selphie thinks it's a good idea, but I don't think I, like, explained that very well to Zell. I don't what to do," he finishes lamely.

"You need to focus on how Zell's feeling," she says, softly, "Him and Selphie, neither of them are exactly skilled in this game. All of us can see that. If you're not careful, you'll run circles around them, and that's not how this should be approached."

Irvine frowns, flexing his fingers. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"No," she says with a sigh.

It's enough. It's good enough—because if he's not crazy, then maybe he can make this right again, even if he's made a mess of things. "Thanks," he murmurs, "I'll—Hyne, I don't know what I'm going to do. But I'm going to do something."

"Just be careful. That's all," Quistis says, and he can practically feel her reaching for a cup of coffee.

Irvine can't help the slow smile. "I will. Talk to you later, Quisty," he says.

* * *

Irvine's already stretched out in the bed by time she comes in. "Selphie?" he asks, standing up, his brows furrowing. "I was starting to wonder whether you were coming back tonight or not."

Her grin feels disjointed, out of place. "Sorry—I got a little too involved in the working thing."

She looks down at her hands, at the raw look of them, and decides she should probably try to be more careful, she feels stretched thin, jittery, energized, and exhausted all at once, and maybe she overdid it a little. Actually, she knows she's overdone it when Irvine closes the distance between them and pulls her into his arms, holding her a little too tightly.

"Hyne, Selphie, if you're upset—" he blows out a breath, and she can feel the tension in him.

"There's no way to turn off the power. The console to do that's broken. I junctioned Lightning to myself, to keep off the worst, I just," she frowns, finds her words, "I think it's running off the emergency generator, but the switch for that is malfunctioning and getting to the power supply is pretty tough."

Irvine pulls her tighter and she feels Cure running through her and he says, "You've gotta regulate how much you work then. Like, I know that's how you think, but Selphie—Sefie—I hate it when you come home all messed up."

She can't help the laugh. "We're SeeD. It happens," but she blows out a sigh. "I at least showered, though."

There's a laugh from him, and he tucks a strand of hair out of her face, and he pulls her into bed, undoing her shoes, and she wiggles her toes; he smiles. With a sigh, he settles next to her, an arm around her, and then he moves her so she's half-leaning on his chest.

"I love you," he says, quiet, serious.

Selphie glances at him, and smiles. "Love ya too, Irvy."

He pulls her tighter against him, and then looks up at the ceiling for a little while, and then looks back at her, and he seems troubled, and she can guess about what, and so she blurts, "Irvine, I think the Zell thing is a good idea. I mean, who's to say love is only a two-way street, right? I mean, maybe it’s more like an intersection," he opens his mouth to say something, but she presses on, "And I'm totally cool with all of it, as long as Zell is cool with it, and I think he's a little freaked out right now. So we have to do better, okay? And if he's still uncomfortable? Then we gotta stop."

"I know. Hyne, Selphie, I just want everyone to be happy."

Selphie smiles, "Don't worry so much, Irvy. It'll be okay. I mean—even if it doesn't work out with Zell? We've still got—"

He cuts her off with a kiss, because she realizes it's not really anything she needs to say, and soon she's straddling his lap, tongue exploring his mouth, and it's warm, really warm, and his hands are on her hips, and she's clutching at his shoulders, and—okay, working that hard is never a good idea, but there's the clarity that comes from thinking while she works, and she figures, if they can navigate through this complicated mess, then it's worth a bit of loopy and a few burns.

Irvine growls low in his throat, and flips them, so she's flat on her back looking up at him, and his eyes are dark, and she smiles, captures his mouth with hers again.


	3. Chapter 3

He finds Zell lifting some rubble away from a building site, and Irvine takes a deep breath. “Hey, Zell,” he says, and Zell looks up with his usual smile, but his eyes are guarded. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Zell says, and allows Irvine to lead him away from prying eyes, but there’s this tension in his motions that makes Irvine wince, because, unfortunately, it’s his own damn fault.

For a long time, neither of them says anything. Zell’s watching him from more than arm’s reach away, and Irvine blows out a heavy breath, because dammit, this isn’t what he wanted. Not at all. And if he’s damaged the trust between them all, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. “I’m sorry,” he blurts.

Zell startles, brows furrowing, the tension melting away a little, but he doesn’t say anything, just waits.

“I really put you in a bad situation yesterday,” Irvine says, fingers twitching toward his gun. “And that wasn’t fair. I’m really sorry, Zell.”

There’s a moment’s pause, then Zell grins. “Thanks. So, we’re just going to forget any of this ever happened, right?”

Irvine tries to keep his expression neutral, fights with his own wants and his own feelings, and his fingers twitch again, except this time, he wants to reach toward Zell and shake him and say _kissing you wasn’t a fluke. I love you_ , but he figures, at this point, it’s a pretty selfish thing to do, so instead he asks,

“Is that what you want?”

His tone gives it away and Zell’s smile falls and Irvine inwardly kicks himself. There’s an expression on Zell’s face that Irvine can’t exactly decipher, but it doesn’t look promising, and Zell murmurs, “I’m not going to be the thing that ruins your relationship,” and then Zell’s gone, moving with the speed that makes him such a great martial artist.

“Zell!” he calls after, “You wouldn’t—we’ve talked about it, like, more than once!”

But Zell doesn’t stop, he just keeps going and Irvine sighs. Maybe giving Zell some space right now is the best course of action.

* * *

He twists, fist coming up, and then he twirls, drops into a roll, springs back up and kicks. Sweat’s running down him already and he’s shed the heavy coat. Turns out Trabia’s way less cold when you’re working out, even though he can feel the chill in his chest with every sharp breath he takes.

Zell pivots, throws his arms up to block, and then lashes out with his foot.

It feels good to just move, and it’s easy to let go of everything that’s been going on. It’s easy to forget the warmth of Irvine’s kiss, and the feel of Selphie’s fingers on his jaw, and the expression on Irvine’s face when he’d apologized, and—

He throws himself to the frozen ground, and rolls, popping back up fists first.

 _I never like the number two, anyway_.

Zell flinches, pushes himself harder, making his movements faster and sharper. He can’t remember what Selphie said about love, because they’re his friends; he’s not in love with them, he’s not going to be a third wheel—

It doesn’t matter that he liked kissing Irvine, or that he wanted Selphie to keep touching him, or that he loves seeing them smile, or that he couldn’t sleep last night because every time he shut his eyes he saw their faces; it doesn’t matter that his heart hasn’t really stopped beating fast since Irvine kissed him, it doesn’t matter how much he wanted to believe Selphie—

He won’t ruin it. Their relationship or the friendship he’s built with them.

* * *

“Hey, Zell,” Selphie’s voice makes him jump nearly a foot in the air. “Mind if I join you?”

For a second, she thinks Zell’s going to protest. But then he swallows and nods, and she grins, pulling out her nunchaku.

He’s already warmed-up, sweating, and she slides easily into a defensive stance, letting the sharp sting of cold wake her up. He moves first, but she’s expecting that, and she dodges, easily, catching the blow on the chain of her nunchaku, and the force reverberates through her, but she grins at him, and disengages, jumping back. This is familiar, normal, and she can see him relax. Really, he’s the one most worried about what’s been happening—not that she blames him.

The spar picks up, and she finds she can predict his moves as easily as he can predict hers, and there’s something comfortable about that, about how well they know each other, and she likes that she can lash out hard with her nunchaku and know that he’ll dodge.

“Hey, Zell,” she says, evading a blow, “I wanted to clear up one thing.”

He rolls to avoid her attack and she takes that to mean he’s listening.

“I don’t want a relationship with Irvine that you happen to be a part of. That’s not right. If it were to happen? I’d want...” she struggles to find a word, even as she jumps back to avoid a roundhouse kick.

Zell presses forward, stringing together punches and kicks so fast that she barely has time to dodge, and she allows herself a small smile, because if he’s playing this rough, it means he trusts her as much as she trusts him, and that’s always a good thing. “I’d want more of a tricycle. Or a three-legged stool. I’d want you as an equal part of what we have, and I know it’ll take some time to build something like that, but I think it’d be worth it to try. So—”

Neatly, Zell hooks his foot around her ankle and she lands hard on her back, and she inwardly swears to herself, she’d been too distracted by talking.

With a yelp, she kicks out at him, as hard as she can, and he blinks, surprised, because she normally doesn’t have to get scrappy, but damn, can she be scrappy. When you’re five-foot-nothing in a military academy, you learn to hold your own ground. He takes a step back, and she scrambles to her feet, and lashes out with her nunchaku in the same movement.

He dodges, the end just barely grazing him with a _smack_ and he winces. “So what I’m saying,” she pants, “Is I think you shouldn’t worry about ruining mine and Irvine’s relationship, but you should think about whether or not it’s something you’d want to try.”

Zell launches at her, and she dives and rolls to the side, because she’d really, really lose in a brawl with him. They fall back into the sync of fighting, now that’s she said her piece; she can see his mind working even as the intensity of the spar picks up, and she thinks about how there’ll be too-few moments like this, because her and Zell are probably going to be the first to die. People like them, people who always have to be walking that line with death and are constantly toe-to-toe with danger usually are.And SeeDs never live very long anyway. People like Irvine and Rinoa, who hang back in the shadows will be the ones left, with Quistis and Squall somewhere in the middle.

For a brief moment, she lets the sadness take away her smile, and then she attacks Zell with renewed vigor. Because this is the time she’s got, and she won’t waste it.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and then stills, breathing heavy. “C’mon, Selphie. Let’s go inside. I can’t feel my toes.”

She laughs. “Balamb boy all the way.”

* * *

Irvine leans back against the rubble, the rock cool even through his coat and he can't help but shiver. Damn, but he's made a mess of things, hasn't he?

Who knows how long it'll take Zell to trust him again, and Selphie is upset that Zell's upset, and he still can't get the feel of Zell's lips out of his head, and—Irvine takes in a deep breath of cold air. This'll drive him crazy if he lets it. He's apologized to Zell, talked everything over with Selphie. All he can do now is wait and see what happens. Driving himself crazy won't help a damn thing.

There's a roar and he looks across the expanse of snow to see the beast running at full-tilt toward the Garden. His gun's up in an instant.

The first shot catches the wolf in the knee, and it yowls, stumbling, falling. Irvine shoots it again in the head, and the snow darkens with its blood. He leans back, tilts his hat, and sighs. Well, it's good to know he's not so distracted that he can't do his job. Irvine blows out a breath and passes a hand over his face.

Hyne, sometimes, he should just learn to keep his big mouth shut.

Because everything was going great. Him and Selphie were like—perfect, totally perfect, and Zell was totally content with everything, and their friendship was solid, so solid and now—Irvine tries to shake the upset look on Zell's face out of his head, but it doesn’t really help.

Like always, Irvine’s ruined it all, just because he just can never seem to be happy with what he’s already got.

Irvine grimaces and looks out across the wasteland.

* * *

"Yes!" she says, and she feels Sean jump. "Found it. Give me the wire clippers."

Without question, he does, and she quickly snips the wire, and the electricity in the console goes out. Okay, so they still have that one live wire in there, but it's better than it was, and she grins. "Great. I think we should call it a day. We've got a lot done."

Sean hesitates. "Okay," he pauses, "So, tomorrow?"

"Yeah. We can start on the actual rebuilding then."

They share a grin and then they head out. When she gets back to the room she shares with Irvine, Irvine's nowhere to be seen, and she frowns to herself. This might be the first time she's beaten him back since they've gotten here. Sleep tugs heavy at her eyes—maybe she has been working and thinking and trying too hard. She's gross from working on the machines, and she's gross from her spar with Zell, and she really should shower or at least take off her shoes, but she collapses on the bed and is out almost immediately.

* * *

Her words stay with him and he finds himself looking vaguely at the wall. Everything feels surreal, like, slanted or hazy or something. He clenches his fist tight and shuts his eyes, tries for clarity, for understanding, because he said he'd think about it, and he intends to.

But that doesn't mean it's easy.

What does he want? Does he want to go on like none of this happened? Or does he want to give it a shot? How does he feel about them, romantically?

He liked kissing Irvine, has always liked the feeling of being close to Selphie. And love—as far as love goes, can you really be that close to someone without loving them, at least on some level? Maybe it's more a friendly love or a familial love, but if it isn't, would it be so bad to...?

Zell grimaces, then stretches out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

If things go wrong, though, could he live with that? No—but would either Selphie or Irvine let that ruin the relationship they already have? Does he trust them not to let it affect their relationship? He'd trust them with his life. So, he guess that’s a yes.

He trusts them.

Maybe that's enough. Maybe trust is enough.

Zell frowns thoughtfully.

Maybe it would be worth it to give it a try.

* * *

Morning comes far earlier than she wants it to. At some point during the night, Irvine had come in and removed her shoes, and she blinks, because he's fast asleep and doesn't stir when she moves. Selphie takes care to move silently, like she's on a mission, because it would be just her luck to knock something over and wake him up.

Getting dressed in the dark proves to be a challenge, but it's made significantly easier by the fact she wears a zip-up dress. She grins to herself, and silently slides out of the room.

She’s hardly made it out the door before her phone rings, and she inwardly thanks her lucky stars that whoever it is waited those few extra seconds before calling her. Irvine needs the sleep, badly. Selphie flips her phone open and asks, “Hello?”

“Selphie,” Squall says, “How’s the rebuilding going?”

“Pretty good. I’ve personally been working on getting Trabia to full flying-capacity, but buildings are going back up, the perimeter is secure, and classes are scheduled to start up come summer,” she tells him.

Squall pauses. “Good. How long do you think it will be before the three of you can come home?”

She winces—typical Squall. He’s gotten better but he still... doesn’t always understand the emotions of others, or the concept that maybe she wants to stay to rebuild her home for longer than he might like her too. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have a more accurate estimate at the end of the week.”

“I see,” he says and there’s another pause. “How are the three of you holding up?”

Isn’t that the million gil question?

“We’re hanging in there. There’s been some stuff going on, but I think we’re working past it all, so I don’t really think you should worry about it,” she says.

More silence and Selphie grimaces. Because there is no way she just got away with that. Squall is too sharp for that, and both of them know it. She squirms, fingers clutching her phone tighter, and he doesn’t even have to say anything to make her spill. “The three of us are having romantic problems. So we’re figuring it all out. Don’t worry about it. We got this.”

“Call me if the situation changes,” he says, “In either scenario. Take care.”

* * *

The door opens and Irvine represses the urge to roll back over. There’s no Selphie pressed into his side, so if it’s an intruder, he’s got to deal with it himself. He sits up only to have something collide with his forehead. It sticks to him.

He blinks—Zell’s smile fills his vision, and then is gone and he hears the door shut.

Irvine represses a groan and flops back onto the bed.

The thing on his forehead comes off nice and easy, and he grimaces at the neon green post-it note.

 _Why don’t the three of us go for dinner? Sorry for the sticky note. Didn’t want to wake you up. :)_

That earns a laugh, and Irvine puts the note on the bedside table and rolls over, hoping sleep will take him back.

* * *

He’s not exactly sure what to do with himself. Selphie and Irvine are already here, smiling at each other, discussing something or another. Zell takes a breath and slides into the seat beside Selphie. “Hey,” he says with a grin that’s actually pretty easy.

“Hey,” Selphie practically beams. “We’re making real progress with the console. How’s the building coming along?”

“Pretty good,” he says.

Across from them, Irvine smiles the typical easy grin, and he says, “Maybe we’ll be able to go home soon. Missin’ the beach, Zell?”

“Yeah,” Zell grimaces, “The cold’s evil.”

Selphie doesn’t even bother to hide her snicker, and, underneath the table, her hand snakes out and grasps his, and he blinks at the sudden contact, and both her and Irvine smile, and Zell thinks about it—that’s why they’re here, aren’t they? To try?—and he squeezes her hand, and grins.

“So, Irvine. I was thinking, your martial arts are really bad. Maybe you should spar with us?” Selphie’s grin is impish.

The look Irvine gives them is flat. “I don’t do the whole hand-to-hand thing. I’m a sniper—not a thug.”

“Ouch,” Zell laughs, “Way to hit the belt.”

And he kind of expects things to be different, to change. But really, it's just like every other time the three of them have eaten together, except Irvine's watching with a little more intensity and Selphie’s holding his hand, but—

It's totally normal. Selphie still rambles about machinery and Irvine's still talking about his weird people-watching habit he swears comes from being a sniper, and Zell still finds himself talking about that latest book he read, and it's so easy. It's easy in a way that catches him off-guard, because he expected something different, but it's not. It feels like—feels comfortable. And Zell just grins and digs into his food one-handed.

Maybe he was over-thinking this.

* * *

They're barely through the door when Irvine laughs and picks her up. He twirls her around; Selphie grins and presses her mouth to his collarbone. "That went really well," she says into his skin. "Nice work, cowboy."

"I know! Like, I was surprised that he was—Hyne," Irvine says, and drops her on the bed.

She wiggles into a more comfortable position and her grin is ear-splitting. "And he obviously enjoyed himself too."

Selphie holds her hand up and looks at it, and Irvine grabs a hold of it and drops a kiss onto her palm; her breath hitches traitorously, and he smirks. Hyne, but Irvine always knows exactly what makes her fall at his feet.

"I think," Irvine says, as his knee slides between her thighs, "I think this might work.

"Fantastic," she breathes, and then leans up and kisses him.

* * *

Zell twists and ducks, springs up fist first, then leaps up higher, comes back down to earth foot first, and the floor groans at the impact.

He throws himself onto the bed, and laughs. Life, he guesses, doesn't really change that much. Which is probably a good thing. Irvine and Selphie's smiles are imprinted on the back of his eyelids, and he kinda likes them there. It's almost as good as actually seeing them. For now, it'll have to do. Until they can get more of this all figured out. He's really excited for that, actually.

Because happiness wells in his chest and he hasn't stopped smiling.

And he likes that feeling, a lot. Almost as much as he liked seeing their smiles.


	4. Chapter 4

He’s dozing when Selphie rolls out of bed with a groan. Irvine sits up and can’t help the grin as she sways on her feet, glaring at the window where the light’s streaming through. She’s never wakes up easy; she fumbles around for clothes, and gets dressed, and he just stretches out, watches her zip her dress up, and put her boots on, and he thinks, knows, he could happily watch this every morning for the rest of his life.

Well, maybe not every morning. After all—some mornings, he’s planning o  not letting her get dressed at all, and keeping her all to himself. And Zell.

His grin turns into a smirk, and, of course, Selphie chooses that exact moment to look at him. Her pout’s cute and he beckons her over. She blows out a breath and moves to him, kisses him, hard, fast, then pulls back, fingers skimming his cheekbones for an instant, and then she’s barreling out the door, to get covered in sweat and grease and who knows what else, and he finds swallowing gets just a bit harder.

Hyne, but Selphie drives him well past the point of distraction.

* * *

The phone ring catches him mid-whistle and mid-stride. Zell stops and flips his phone out. “Hello?”

“Zell,” Quistis says, “How are you?”

Even her greeting sounds business-like. Typical Quistis. He can’t help the grin. “Pretty great. The three of us got everything figured out and it’s—we’re giving it a shot, Quisty.”

There’s a pause he can’t read. Though, he’s pretty sure that it’s either disapproving or surprised.

“...You sound in good spirits,” but she doesn’t exactly sound convinced.

“I am,” he says, “It’s pretty great. We went to dinner last night, and it was the same as ever, except, more something. And I think this might actually work.”

There’s a pause. “If it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have tried. I mean—we’ve been friends forever. This isn’t gonna to ruin that,” he says with a shrug he realizes belatedly that she can’t see.

She sighs, but he’s pretty sure she sounds more relieved than anything else. “Well, if you’re sure. I wish you all luck,” she says.

There’s another pause.

“Oh, and Rinoa is going to want to know all the details.”

She hangs up before he even has an opportunity to laugh.

* * *

When she comes in, she’s suddenly very glad she showered before she came, hair icy-chill from the cold outside. She shivers in the doorway and shuts the door, and it’s not until the draft sweeps across the room that they realize she’s here. Irvine pulls back from Zell, mouth parted, face that shade of pale pink she loves.

“Starting without me?” she asks, and Zell winces from where he’s underneath Irvine, his lips kiss-swollen.

“We were waiting for you, sweetheart,” Irvine grins, shifts so that his straddling Zell doesn’t keep the other man from sitting up, “Glad you didn’t come home covered in oil today.”

She flashes a grin at Zell, and the concern over being caught kissing her boyfriend melts away to that easy delight she adores. With a soft laugh, she drops her bag to the floor, and the bolts and screws inside clank, and then she sits down, stripping off her boots, and Irvine wolf-whistles with some difficulty, because he’s breathing so hard. “Carry on,” she winks at Zell, and he flushes darker; it’s a good look on him.

Of course, Irvine doesn’t need more prompting than that. He presses Zell back into the bed, hands on Zell’s shoulders, and their mouths meet again, and she can see their lips and tongues working, and yeah—oh yeah, this is a good idea, heat gathers inside her and she’s not cold anymore—she moves from her spot on the floor, stretches out at the foot of the bed, head propped on her arms, watches.

They part for air, panting, and Zell meets her gaze, smiles, sloppy, and she reaches out, traces a fingertip along the curves of his tattoo, and she can feel him shiver, and Irvine sucks a breath in, then takes the opportunity to get Zell’s pants and boxers off.

She leans down, presses her mouth gently to Zell’s and he grins, bright and beautiful, and oh, oh she wants, and then she hears a drawer open and she looks at Irvine.

“Oh, Irvy, don’t use that stuff,” she says, practically whining, and she reaches over, to the drawer of her end-table, fumbling to open it, and she pulls out her own bottle of lube, which Irvine eyes with distaste.

“I hate that stuff, Sefie,” he says, blandly. “You may as well use it on the Ragnorak.”

Selphie huffs, and tries to ignore the laughter in Zell’s eyes, mostly because it makes her breath catch in a way that’ll make her lose this battle. “Yours smells...”

“It’s lube, Sefie, you’re not supposed to smell it!” and he’s laughing, hands already slick, and she tries not to wrinkle her nose, because he knows she has like... hyper-smelling ever since she junctioned Carbuncle, and it’s not fair, because he should have gotten it from Cerberus, but no, he just got a fondness for barely cooked meat, which is totally gross, anyway.

Her next protest is cut off by the low throaty noise Zell makes when a finger slides into him, easy, and she snaps her gaze to his face, because his mouth’s open just a little, still wet from kissing, and the flush is darkening, contrasting his tattoo and his golden hair and she reaches out, buries her fingers in his hair, and he makes a small noise, or as small as Zell does anything really, and then she looks, meets Irvine’s eyes, and he’s smiling, in fascination and delight, and heat blooms more nagging, incessant, and she thinks about reaching down, but she’d rather touch—Zell, Zell—

And she trails her hand down, underneath his shirt, across the flat expanse of muscle of his chest, then finds his nipple, circles her fingertip around it, and his breathing’s ragged, broken, and she can tell when Irvine adds another finger because Zell jumps under her hand.

She leans down, kisses him again, sliding her tongue into his already open mouth, and he meets her kiss hard, and she wants—Zell sighs into the kiss, tensing then relaxing because of something Irvine’s doing, and she pulls away from their kiss to watch. Irvine’s eyes are dark as he watches them, his mouth twisted in concentration, and it’s a lot like the look he gets when he’s making a difficult shot or when he’s drawing or summoning a GF, and it’s amazing, half the reason why she sometimes wants to jump him on missions. Using the hand on Zell’s chest to balance, she leans across him, to press her mouth to Irvine’s and his teeth tug at her lower lip and she opens her mouth, light, easy—

One of Zell’s hands moves haphazard under her dress, brushes against her underwear and she shivers, going still, and she’s pretty sure Irvine’s smirking, except it doesn’t matter, because Zell has clever hands.

Irvine breaks the kiss and she doesn’t move an inch, looks down as he pulls his fingers out, and she grins, grabs the bottle of lube, slicks her hands up, and reaches for Irvine’s cock, coating his length, and he breathes out, shaky, and Zell’s hand stills, his breath catching, because he can’t see what she’s doing, but maybe he can guess, knows what’s coming, and she shivers, can’t help but rock against his hand.

And then Irvine winks at her, and he moves, lines himself up, and she moves too, away from Zell’s hand, so she can watch them both, see the way Zell’s face twists when Irvine enters him, and she traces his tattoo again, his face smoothes, but his eyes shut tight as he cants his hips, and he—he’s had to have done this before, she decides, wonders.

The bed shakes with Irvine’s thrusts, and she’d giggle if her throat weren’t so dry. Zell’s fists his hands in the bedspread, a moan, and he writhes under Irvine, and Irvine’s keeping up this pace she knows from experience is _just_ —she traces along her entrance with a finger, feeling herself through the cotton of her underwear, and now Irvine’s watching her, and she tries for a grin.

He presses harder into Zell, and Zell’s cock is pretty much asking for attention, and Irvine notices too but shakes his head at her, an expression that’s a little too predatory to be a smirk, and she slides her finger inside of her underwear, circles her clit, slowly, and can’t help the satisfied exhale, and Irvine thrusts harder, and then his expression stills, quiets almost, and she knows that look, and he thrusts once more, and then shudders, biting down on his lip.

A moment later, he pulls out, and Zell grins, mouth pleasure-lax, and his eyes fall on Selphie, and he asks, “You ready?” like that’s that, and oh—yes, Zell, she loves Zell, he’s always so... confident, maybe, tries not to let the world get them down, and he’s fearless, like this isn’t new territory, and maybe it’s not—and she moves, finds his cock, slides her hands along it.

His is different from Irvine’s, a little thicker maybe, and he gives off so much heat. Like, maybe it comes from living in Balamb so long, or maybe it’s just a Zell thing, but he’s like a furnace, and if they all start sharing a bed, they’re not going to need blankets anymore once they leave Trabia.

The thought makes her smile, and he reaches up, tugs the zipper of her dress down, and Irvine’s hands are on her suddenly, pulling it off, unhooking her bra, and one of Zell’s hands navigates into her underwear, and she makes a noise as he brushes against her, and then his grin widens, and he rolls, so she’s under him, and it makes her laugh, breathless, his hand pressed flat, and she can feel him against her leg.

Something hits him in the face, and he splutters, surprised, and she picks it up, and giggles at the condom in her hand. After a moment, Zell laughs to, says to Irvine, “Thanks,” and then he lifts off her a bit, and Irvine moves, to help him get the thing on.

It gives her time to wiggle out of her underwear, and then she settles back, watching Irvine slowly roll the condom onto Zell’s cock, and then once that’s done, Irvine moves away, to watch, smirking.

Zell slides into her, fast and easy, and good, and it really doesn’t take long. He’s not a tease like Irvine is, goes hard and fast and kind of rough, like how they spar, and she wraps her legs around his waist, meets his lust-dark eyes, and leans up for a kiss. For sure, this is something she could get used to.

He comes first, with a grunt that kinda reminds her of a caveman, and she’d giggle, except he moves one of his hands, to her clit, and she quivers, and cries out when she comes, and really, it’s not fair. Both her and Zell, apparently, make noises, and Irvine is the king of stealth orgasms, he barely makes noise at all, and it’s so not fair.

There’s a moment after it, where all three of them are panting, and she glances at where Irvine is wiping cum off his hands on the sheet, and she nearly laughs. Zell pulls slowly out of him and she unhooks her legs from around him as an afterthought.

The condom lands neatly in the trash bin. Every times Irvine tries that, they end up cleaning it off the floor. Zell doesn’t catch Irvine’s pout.

“So...” Zell scratches the back of his head, glancing at the door.

Irvine catches him by the wrist, pulls him down. “So now we sleep,” he says, settling back himself. “It’s late.”

It takes all of her willpower not to laugh as she curls up with them. Zell’s smile is nearly blinding, and everything is starting to look up, isn’t it? Soon Trabia will be able to function again, and the three of them will be able to... work out the kinks.

“Next time, we should try some different configurations,” she murmurs, sleepily.

Their laughter lulls her to sleep.


End file.
